


Business Between Rivals

by sk8rpssockpup (MissIzzy)



Series: Liaisons [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, F/F, Foe Yay, M/M, Shower Sex, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/sk8rpssockpup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday night at 2008 Skate America, Evan's pissed off, Johnny's amused, Tanith's uneasy, and Isabelle Delobel is in distress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Between Rivals

By the time the two of them got back to the locker room, alone, because Kozuka's media was going to hold him a little longer yet and everyone else had changed already, Evan Lysacek had decided what made him angriest was that Johnny didn't seem upset in the slightest. He ought to have been. Evan had known they'd both really wanted this victory, losing to some nobody who had finished ninth at Worlds was humiliating, plus they had to worry about him later now, and there had already been enough people to worry about, and with the field in Japan being what it was there was a chance Johnny wouldn't qualify for the Grand Prix Finale. Of course with this lousy bronze Evan was in arguably more danger there, but he fully intended to win next week and take care of that, and anyway that wasn't Johnny's problem. So, in Evan's book, they should both be aggravated by their would-be battle being spoiled in the way it had been.  
  
But Johnny Weir was Johnny Weir, which meant he was clearly nothing but amused.  
  
It annoyed him so much he said as they undressed. "I see you're happy. I guess beating me was more important than actually winning, right?"  
  
Johnny laughed. Oh great, he was gorgeous when he laughed. Well, really, he was too goddamned gorgeous whatever he did; another thing that pissed Evan off at the moment was that despite his intolerable cheerfulness, he still really wanted to fuck him. "No," he said. "Winning actually was more important. But there were other things that were more important than either of those, and I'm good on those, so..." He was stripping down and had a towel out. He was going to shower.   
  
Which meant Evan was going to fuck him. Evan knew enough about himself, about them both, to know this.  When he probably should go see Tanith and save it to make sure he could get it up for her if necessary, because they probably needed to talk.  But then again, her event wasn't over yet, and he wasn't in a state to keep it down with her the way he ought to before the free dance, so maybe for her sake he should wait until tomorrow to see her.  "Like what?"   
  
"Not losing to my nerves," said Johnny. "Getting safely onto the podium as far up as possible, not blowing my shot at the Finale. And I was already prepared for silver. Okay, I thought if I lost it would be to you, but either way, silver's silver, and silver's not too bad. There was a point where I was afraid of bronze and giving myself too much to do in Japan, so after that, silver's a bit of a relief. Though I suppose if worst had come to worst I could have taken it philosophically, since I never do very at the Grand Prix Finale anyway. You really shouldn't worry," he added, not unkindly. "Knowing the way the men's competition at Skate Canada usually goes, I honestly believe you'll win. I'd love to see Serega beat you, but he does have problems with consistency." Wrapped up in his towel, he headed for the showers. Evan, who had also stripped, grabbed the lube and condom he'd stashed in his locker for this specific purpose, then followed.  
  
"You do realize," said Johnny, who no doubt had guessed Evan's intentions already, "that some would say if we had sex in the showers, I should top?"  
  
"That's rich," said Evan, "coming from the guy who just warned Kozuka not to try any 'podium privileges.'"  
  
"I didn't say I believed it," said Johnny. "I just said other people did." He walked into a stall, then raised his eyebrows as Evan followed him into it. "Besides, I'm too smart. I know you're probably afraid of bottoming."  
  
"Not true!" Evan protested indignantly. "For your information, I bottomed for Scott Moir at Four Continents last year!" And Scott had been a surprisingly hard and domineering top, too. Secretly Evan wondered if something bad had happened between Tanith and Tessa, and Scott had been taking it out on him.  
  
Johnny laughed again, and he looked so beautiful Evan found himself moving forward to claim him. "You and your Canadian fetish!"  
  
"Though speaking of which," he added, moving away when Evan tried to wrap an arm around him. "I'm not absolutely sure I want to hand my ass over to a guy who might only be still wanting me because the pretty boy he really wants is too monogamous to fuck him."  
  
"Do you really think what, like, I'm doing or not doing with someone who's not here, and wasn't going to be here even before he decided to retire, would stop me from fucking anyone here, now?" Evan pointed out, quite reasonably.  
  
He grabbed Johnny and tried to kiss him, but Johnny pulled away. "Fair enough, but there's another point. I know you and Tanith were supposed to be exclusive again."  
  
"We agreed that wasn't working out. I thought you, like, knew that already." Which worried Evan a bit. Tanith had been all philosophical, saying she thought they'd both tasted too much freedom, and why muck with something that seemed to be working. Except the way things had been between them, he wondered if this arrangement would work anyway.  But he couldn;t worry about it too much; it was way too distracting.  
  
"But I don't know when you agreed to that," said Johnny, and he had turned very serious. "I do know for a fact that you made at least one pass at Jeff. If you did it without Tanith giving you permission first, I can't let you touch me. You know my rules; no cheaters. Or would-be cheaters."  
  
Actually, Evan hadn't heard of Johnny excluding people who'd merely tried to cheat; he was probably yanking his chain. Just to give him no further grounds to deny him on, Evan took Johnny's hand, looked into his eyes, and said, very seriously, "Johnny, I swear by my National titles, my World medals, and my quad, I made no move on Jeff until Tanith and I had agreed to open up the relationship again."  
  
Johnny smiled, and said, "That sounds good enough." He reached over to turn the shower on, and dropped his towel.  
  
A few more steps under the spray, and then they were all over each other. Evan had forgotten how much he loved kissing Johnny's lips. Kissing them, biting them, sucking on them hard enough to bruise. Johnny was making the most delectable little noises and already grinding into Evan while groping his ass; he'd missed this too.  
  
There was more, much more, of Johnny to feast on, and Evan moved down to savor him. His delicate neck and throat, which Evan licked and very lightly sucked. His slender-looking but hard and muscular torso, where Evan could suck and bite with less worry about leaving marks; he could do things to make Johnny gasp and whimper. With tongue and hands he teased his balls, his hole, delibrately ignoring his dick until Johnny was whining, "Evaaan...."  
  
Evan stood up, then promptly found himself grabbed and Johnny's tongue shoved into his mouth. Johnny's hands were everywhere, on his back, his shoulders, his legs. "Fuck me," Johnny hissed at him.  
  
Evan grabbed for the lube and condoms. "What was that nonsense about you topping?" he chided, as he stuck two lubed fingers up Johnny's ass. "Did you think I'd think for a minute you'd deprive yourself of my cock?" Johnny had no response to that besides thrusting down on Evan's fingers, before he snatched the condom from Evan.  
  
"I'll do that," he whispered, tearing open the packet with his teeth. He slid it on slowly, running his fingers along Evan's dick while licking his lips, and making him grit his teeth to keep from reacting too much. "Horndog," he whispered.  
  
"Pot and kettle," Evan retorted, working to finish preparing them both. "Your back fine?"  
  
"Back's great," grinned Johnny, a grin that was wiped off his face when Evan shoved him against the wall and slammed home.  
  
Fucking Johnny was as good as he remembered; he set a hard rhythm which Johnny returned, shoving his delicious little body back against Evan's dick, his feet flailing to either side of Evan, eyes fluttering as he struggled to look at Evan, to not succumb to him. Evan wanted to make him succumb, to render him helpless, to drive every last thought from his mind except how good Evan's dick felt up his ass.  
  
His fingers played with Johnny's dick, making his eyes roll back. Johnny moaned loudly; Evan hastily clamped his mouth over Johnny's. A few moments and he pulled away to hear Johnny's wild panting, mingling with his own as he felt his balls tighten, and struggled to hold back, to fuck Johnny just a little longer.  
  
But Johnny was gone already; he screwed up his face and noises escaped him through gritted teeth as he came all into Evan's hand. The feeling of his clenching around Evan's dick was too much, and Evan too came, slumping into the wall as he went limp.  
  
"Evan?" Johnny whispered a moment later. "You're smothering me. And I still need to shower."  
  
They shared the shower; they'd been using up enough hot water as it was. Even so, Johnny took his sweet time, fussing with his usual zeal over his hair, though, as Evan observed, he was no longer the only fussy American in the locker room.  
  
"It's kind of weird," said Johnny, "people copying me. Someone alerted me to a pair of Czech junior ice dancers stealing my old King of Chess costume design too. Like I said, weird."  
  
"It's because they all want to fuck you," Evan told him. "At least Rippon does."  
  
"I don't do intranational competitors," said Johnny stubbornly. "Except you. Particularly boys who hero-worship me; *way* too much pressure."

"Anyway," he added as they turned the water off, "Doesn't it weird you out?  Suddenly being the older one?"  
  
"I don't really think about it," said Evan. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he added, "Good luck in Japan."  
  
"Good luck in Canada," said Johnny, who was still carefully drying himself. Evan left him to it and returned to the lockers, where he found Takahito Kozuka, very slowly finishing dressing, very obviously staring the direction of the showers. He'd heard them. No doubt about it.  
  
"Stop staring," said Evan, his bad mood returning. "Don't you know to not go gawking at the two guys fucking in the shower? You're not that much of a kid."  
  
"I not..." Kozuka started, then shook his head and fled the room. In spite of himself Evan blushed a little.  
  
***  
  
By the time the men's free and the medal ceremony was over, Tanith Belbin had decided what made her angriest was that Natalia Linichuk had let them down so early. It was okay if they won silver here. Here wasn't what was most important. She could be perfectly zen about that. Coming in behind the Kerrs in the segment was anxiety-raising, but they seemed to be taking a step up lately anyway, so that wasn't entirely her and Ben's fault.  
  
But after months of trusting in Linichuk to be right in whatever she said and whatever she told them to do, now she had to doubt. Because now they had an OD that might cause them problems, and unlike Igor, Linichuk didn't seem very interested in fixing it. Oh sure, they'd go back and work on the levels with a vengeance, but the dance itself hadn't gotten a good reception, and she was completely ignoring that. Tanith's feelings on the matter had been exacerbated by sharing anxieties with Oksana over the phone; having seen their results, she was now worried about the strength of her and Maxim's own OD. It made Linichuk look seriously incompetent.   
  
It was only the second segment of their first competition. She was supposed to help things go right for them a little longer than that, surely.  
  
Watching her boyfriend crash his quad combo and somewhat inexplicably drop to third didn't help her mood. She had the feeling he'd be extremely bad company that night.  She was torn between wanting him to come to her and not wanting him to come to her, though she figured he probably wouldn't anyway.  Even though she was aware he might need to.  
  
It was as the skaters were leaving the ice after the medal ceremony that she noticed something that surprised her; Isabelle Delobel, standing at the edge of the stands, crying into her cellphone; she truly looked devastated. When she turned the phone off and nearly threw it down before turning and fleeing, Tanith's curiosity had to be satisfied.  
  
She followed her outside, where she found her standing by the door, crying into the wall. ' Gently she placed her hand on her shoulder. The other woman didn't react. "What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Boyfriend," was Isabelle's response. "Why he call me now?  _Putain de merde!"_  
  
So Tanith wasn't the only one with relationship issues.  Though this probably wasn't as serious, at least in the long-term; Delobel and her boyfriend had been together many years, and it was known they occasionally had crazy storms. But all the same, this wasn't right; for two days this woman and her partner had defied conventions, defied skating politics, defied everything, and just been so damn  _perfect_. Well, okay, except for the twizzles, but it was early in the season. To find her here now, breaking down like this, was just  _wrong_. "Look," she said, "you've got to pull yourself together, you've got to bring it tomorrow."  
  
"You want that?" Isabelle asked, disbelieving.  
  
"I can't explain it," said Tanith, "but look, I really,  _really_  don't want to win because you two mess up tomorrow. Just....no." She shuddered. "Not here, not now, not today-er, tomorrow. Yes, I'm being selfish asking you to be competitive for me. But really, you have to pull yourself together; you don't need me to tell you that!"  
  
Her companion just cried harder. Tanith took a hold of her and asked, "Where's your partner?"  
  
"Not here. Sleeping, maybe."  
  
"Your coaches? Officials?" Tanith didn't want to leave her alone. Isabelle shrugged. "Okay," said Tanith, "since it is in my selfish interest to have you in shape tomorrow, I'm taking you back to your hotel room, and you're calming down and going to sleep. Come on."  
  
She let herself be led passively, even after she stopping crying. Tanith kept her eyes peeled for cameras even then; this would be an intriguing sight for the media, and she did not want to deal with them; she had enough on her plate at the moment. There were other members of the skating community who did see them and stared, but never mind them. Isabelle did not speak until Tanith asked for her room number, and after providing it she was silent again.  
  
At her door they stopped. Tanith asked quietly, "Will you be okay?" Isabelle nodded, and she said, "Okay, then. Good night." She suspected she didn't want any handshakes, so she turned back towards the elevator.  
  
"Wait."  
  
Tanith turned back to find the French skater looking at her properly for the first time that evening. The redness on her face didn't obscure her beauty or the fierce determination in the her eyes, or even the calm confidence, the knowledge that she was the best in the world at what she did, combined with the amused delight of being able to surprise people with that fact, the satisfaction that though people might not know it beforehand, every competition she entered was going to be hers to lose, and it wouldn't be long before everyone did know it.  _Go ahead and be good, little girl,_  Tanith could almost hear her say. _Go ahead and blow them away. It won't bother me, because I'll still be better._  

Tanith felt her throat suddenly go dry with want.  
  
She swiped her hotel card, and pushed her door open. "Come in," she said. "Please."  
  
It was then that Tanith Belbin remembered that Isabelle Delobel was infamous for ferocious promiscuity when she and her boyfriend had their storms, that people were still talking about what had happened between her and Ryan Bradley the previous season, last time they'd had a blowup, and she was not fussy at all about gender, or even timing. Tanith herself had no hard and fast rules about sex during competitions; she tended to just go with what her instincts said. Tonight, she thought, this felt right.  
  
When she followed Isabelle in, she was aware that they both pretty much understood was what about to happen without saying it out loud. The door closing behind her sounded very loud.  
  
Yet Isabelle hesitated when she looked at Tanith, and said "Your boyfriend-he does not expect you soon?"  
  
Tanith shrugged. "We often spent nights apart before free programs. Besides, I'll think he'll be awhile, probably fucking Johnny in the locker room shower," because he probably had done that, she thought.  
  
"Good," she said, smiling and moved to claim the first kiss.  
  
Her mouth was soft and warm, her fingers gentle in Tanith's hair. Her body pressed against Tanith's was enticing, her tongue slipping into her mouth hot and electric when it met Tanith's own. Tanith tried to memorize everything, the taste of her tongue, the texture of her skin, how she smelled. The strength in her arms when she got more aggressive and pressed Tanith so hard against her her feet left the floor. She let it happen, let this stronger woman claim her, let her all but carry her back to the bed and pull them both down.  _"Tu es belle,"_  she whispered to her, but Tanith thought it was Isabelle who was the beautiful one. "Touch me."  
  
Tanith was glad to. She took off her shirt and bra and suckled her breasts, running her tongue round and round the curves of Isabelle's chest as it rose and fell rapidly beneath her. She headed downward, stroking her stomach and hips, undressing her as she went. She reached down further and stroked her fingers through damp heat.  
  
At Isabelle's low, long moan she looked up. She looked like a work of art lain out of the bed, as much as she did when she was on the ice, only now with her muscles bared and her sweat visible. Even the fading bruises on her knees and blisters and bandages on her feet increased her beauty. Tanith thought of the original Olympians of Ancient Greece, competing nude so everyone could see and adore what this Olympian was showing her now. "Like a great god," she whispered. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted someone this badly, the last time her hands had burned and her teethed ached with desire.  
  
She let herself feel it all for a moment, what she was about to touch, how madly she was burning. Then, reverently, she knelt back down, pressed fevered kisses down that torso, those thighs, before moving between them, feeling their muscles pressing into her cheeks, reaching out with her tongue for the soft part of this hard woman, the place where she too was human and vulnerable.  
  
She went by sound and feel, her tongue and hands finding strokes and spots that made Isabelle cry out and clench around her. Isabelle's hands stroked her hand, then moved and guided her fingers to where to apply pressure. She could feel her getting tenser, hear the noises she made rise in pitch. When she came Tanith felt the power in her muscles, then the loss of control, and the heat in her own loins became unbearable; she began frantically rubbing against the sheets through her clothes.   
  
 _"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?"_  She heard. Isabelle was panting, she'd lost her English, she was completely limp, yet her voice was commanding.  
  
Tanith pulled herself up, let Isabelle see the naked need on her face. "Please," she whispered.  
  
Next thing Tanith knew she was pinned to the bed, her clothes rapidly coming off, and Isabelle was on top of her, no doubt feeling how hard she was shaking. When Tanith was completely naked Isabelle's thigh brushed her flesh, her swollen clit, and she screeched; it was too much, to the point of pain, and she tried to pull away. Isabelle's fingers found her, found their way inside, and she came back, shoving herself on them, trying to get them as deep inside as possible. "Just that," she gasped. "Take me." Isabelle's mouth landed on her neck, one hand held her down, fingers pressed into her breasts hard enough to bruise, as the other fucked her hard, and Tanith wanted that, wanted all of her, wanted to be claimed and filled with what this woman was.   
  
She babbled and begged incoherently, and somehow managed to gasp out, "I'm so close," heard Isabelle's husky,  _"Oui,"_  near her ear, and that did it; her orgasm ripped through her body, the spasms shaking her as Isabelle kept moving, kept fucking her all through it, until her body was so spent and sore she felt like she would never move again.  
  
It was a few minutes before either of them spoke. Then Isabelle said, "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Tanith managed. She felt broken down, the same way her skating had been broken down in the recent months. She wondered how Linichuk would react if she heard about this nights antics and Tanith's currently evaluation of it. "Will you be all right now?"  
  
"Yes," said Isabelle, and Tanith knew she would be. Tomorrow she would skate well and probably win gold, then she would go home and reconcile with her boyfriend the way she always did, and hopefully she'd have a word with him about not putting her in this position the night before the free dance. "And you?"  
  
Tanith's first thought was that Isabelle might have just eliminated her closest competition for gold. But for all that, once she actually paid attention to the specific way her body was feeling, it made her think by morning most of the soreness would be gone, but that the relaxed feeling would leave her a lot better with the nerves than she'd been today. "I'm good. So long as I just lie here for a few more hours. Do you mind? I may have just done you a favor, so it's only sportsmanlike."   
  
In response Isabelle pulled the blankets out from where they'd gotten scrunched up under them and urged Tanith to move up and place her head on one of the pillows before pulling the blankets up over them, saying, "Good night." Tanith felt her settling on the other side of the bed.  
  
"Good night," Tanith whispered back, and closed her eyes.  
  
She woke there early the next morning and silently slipped from the bed. She found her clothes pushed up against one side and retrieved them and dressed. Then she took one last look as Isabelle Delobel, still sleeping peacefully, soon to wake ready for her first victory of the year. Whatever became of them within the next fifteen months, either in relation to each other or overall, she knew her admiration for her would never be broken.  
  
She walked through empty halls, headed back to her hotel room to shower and get ready for the day. Silenced reigned, only later to be broken by skaters and other people starting the day's business. With every step, Tanith felt her own strength build.


End file.
